


Coming of Age

by Cernuns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Character Study, Coming of Age, Friendship, Hogwarts Third Year, Humor, Slice of Life, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-26 17:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cernuns/pseuds/Cernuns
Summary: Suffice to say, after her parents received a message that their daughter had been turned into stone and would miss a month of studies because something had attacked her…Suffice to say, after Hermione had woken up after missing a month of studies and being attacked…The summer after her second year Hermione fervently agreed with her parents that perhaps she could stand to talk to someone who understood why she covered all her plush toys so that their beady eyes didn’t gleam in the evening light.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	1. How to Supplant and Side Step Magic in a Muggle Medical Environment

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, ‘tis my first fic ever, constructive criticism welcome!

After a summer full of therapist appointments Hermione could finally admit, even if only to herself, that her approach to therapist appointments was predictably studious. She knew it was studious from the start, but admitting that it was  _ predictably _ studious took time. 

When her parents suggested a therapist in the summer after her first year she felt a touch offended. She had spent ten months without her parents, with teachers trying to kill her best (out of two) friends, and with herself having been put in death defying adventures. Not to mention the terrible culture shock. Self evidently, she could take care of herself, or at the very least  _ survive _ by herself, without the involvement of adults or parents! Not that she didn’t need them or anything, but Hermione felt entitled to label herself as quite self-sufficient.

And so what if she had noticed herself being a bit too suspicious of adults she didn’t know. It’s not that she didn’t trust authority figures, there was a reason why they were put in positions of authority! It’s just that… if once she could have seen an adult side-eyeing her parents or herself and thought that the reason was her new, lovely blouse or her mother talking too enthusiastically about dental care in a patisserie, now she searched for more sinister plots first and only then accepted that maybe the owner of a pastry shop could just be a bit offended if a customer was loudly disparaging those who frequented such shops each day. 

It wasn’t a problem. It was  _ natural _ to be a little bit suspicious of those who didn’t deserve the benefit of doubt. Teachers were educated and put through rigorous testing before they became teachers. Headmasters even more! Government officials might be a bit corrupted, she listened to her parents discussing the news and joined herself, at least those mornings she read the newspaper not her books, but that was just bribery. And only bad people did that. 

It wasn’t like government employees or any other authorities would _ normally _ murder school children to steal immortality assuring gems. That surely was an outliner and even more a  _ magical _ outliner. (Not that the Philosopher's Stone was a gem per se, the reading she had done quite clearly outlined that. The difference between the common usage, chemical composition and historical use of words such as gems, jewels, gemstones, stones and rocks was truly fascinating.)

Altogether, when her parents suggested a therapist after her first year she scoffed and frowned and felt offended and the summer ended so fast that she only had time to promise she would think about it during her next school year. 

And then her next school year started. And people started getting petrified. Which scared Hermione more than others perhaps, because she felt quite grounded in her reading about rocks and gems and knew that petrification was  _ complicated _ , especially since the victims were still alive, just… petrified. 

Hermione was also petrified, just in a different sense of the word (at first). She knew about blood purist views, hard not to with Draco walking around and spewing such nonsense. But she hadn’t felt like such outdated, outlandish, (surely completely baseless) views had endangered her life before!

She dreamt of someone stunning her and pouring a potion in her mouth while she watched the attacker and couldn’t do a thing. After a brief mention of witch burnings in professor Binn’s class she dreamt of Harry being burned at a stake for snake charming. She even dreamt of a snake swallowing her whole. 

She didn’t tell Harry about the nightmare of course, but talking to snakes really was a bit unnerving. She couldn’t understand a thing that came out of his mouth. Of course she did trust him, but years of hearing whispers behind her back, now the blood purity nonsense, made it unpleasant to think that he  _ could _ whisper behind her back (she very well knew it was not a logical thing to think and so shoved it as far as possible in a corner of her mind, together with Ron calling her a nightmare and did her best to forget it). Nevertheless, Hermione felt that she deserved to secretly think that  _ bloody hell _ , if it was a  _ non magical _ unknown language she could’ve at least learned it! This thought process was not wholly logical, as mentioned, and later served to Hermione as a good illustration of the type of things a therapist would happily help her with. 

Anyways, suffice to say, after her parents received a message that their daughter had been turned into stone and would miss a month of studies because something had attacked her… Suffice to say, after  _ Hermione _ had woken up after missing a month of studies and being attacked… The summer after her second year Hermione fervently agreed with her parents that perhaps she could stand to talk to someone who understood why she covered all her plush toys so that their beady eyes didn’t gleam in the evening light.

Of course, before agreeing with her parents Hermione drew a pro and con list. It looked something like this. 

PRO: her anxiety would be treated, she might start dealing with her fear of  _ reflections _ of all things, people might like her more (this, she did not elaborate on, but she did show the pro list to her therapist after three appointments and decided to elaborate on it then), she could finally talk to someone who would understand, therapy was proven to be very beneficial and she would love to feel good. Better.  **Insomnia** (this was scraped so hard in her paper notebook that the next page was ruined). 

CON: CANNOT BREAK STATUTE OF SECRECY. HOW? (It’s needless to say that this was not shown to her therapist. A replacement con list was created with the words “judged for it?” in it.) 

In the end, her answer, as always, was to research. Philosopher’s Stone could just as well be an expensive jewelry collection. Snape… well, he was curiously unchanged, only now a chemistry teacher. The troll was quite a bit harder, but a dog with rabies was the best she could think to replace it with. It didn’t quite encompass the awful sight of a 12 foot troll or it’s smell but it served the symbolic purpose well enough. After reading the morning newspaper, which had a blown up picture of a (most likely) criminally insane prison escapee, Hermione decided that the basilisk could just as well be an escaped murderer who bashed her over the head and gave her a brain swell which required a medically induced coma. Blood purity was even harder, but well, while it wasn’t like sexism was an ingrained Hogwarts problem, in the end it was the only prejudice she could ethically use.

Quite frankly, after her research paper “How to Supplant and Side Step Magic in a Muggle Medical Environment” was finished she felt even more terrified than before. Blood prejudice was an alien concept, sexism was a well known one. It was one thing to accept petrification as a horrible, terrible, petrifying magical incident, it was another to imagine it as an induced coma. She had read horror stories to terrify herself (research to educate herself) on patients being aware while in coma. If that had been the case with the basilisk Hermione was certain she’d have gone bonkers within a week. 

And so, once her third year approached Hermione had two months of thrice weekly therapist appointments under her belt. She didn’t feel like she was so bad off as to deserve thrice weekly appointments, but she did agree with her parents that Hogwarts wasn’t very conducive to year round appointments so it was better to do as much as possible in the summer. 

When Hermione told her therapist about why was alone when a rabid dog escaped in the school, her therapist asked her a few questions and told her a few things. Why do you think Ron said so? What did he hope to achieve by saying that? Hermione, I suspect you’ve been often told that children can be cruel. But you must understand that  _ you _ don’t have to stand for cruelty, and even if someone (supposedly) tells the truth, that doesn’t mean they deserve to try to hurt you with it. 

What do the words “know it all” mean to you? What does your class ranking mean to you? What other ways have you noticed your friends or fellow students standing out? Hermione, a child deserves an education due to ethical, moral, even legal reasons. I would like you to think of three other reasons why you deserve an education and a place in your school which are not connected to your academic standing. 

To summarise, her therapy appointments made Hermione happy. They made her  _ think _ , they improved her analytical skills, she learned what to question and what to be sure of. Her therapist never gave her the answers but led her to them with even more questions. It was the perfect environment for Hermione to learn about self-confidence. Even her choice of misogyny being the prejudice of the day in Hogwarts ended up being discussed in depth. Hermione learned to accept that the concept of femininity applied to her as well and also learned that femininity was not the antithesis to being intelligent. 

And so, her last therapy appointment for that summer had come. Hermione’s therapist, one Mandy Birtch was happy to see that her client looked much more sure in her skin than she had been at the beginning of the summer. Quick glances when Hermione wasn’t keeping eye contact with her proved as much. Her fingernails weren’t bitten down anymore. She had even put on a light, sparkly nail polish. Her clothing was polite as ever, but Hermione swished her skirt before sitting down, a sure sign that she liked it. Her posture was still impressive for a teenager, but much less tense. Her gestures had calmed down as well and Mandy could see that Hermione was using them to illustrate specific ideas more than to desperately impress them upon someone unwilling to listen. 

All in all, Mandy was happy to see her client’s progress. With Hermione’s penchant for writing down important points they had discussed, Mandy was even sure that Hermione’s progress wouldn’t backslide too much in that  _ ghastly, murderous, dangerous _ school of hers.

Hermione was also, always, happy to see her therapist. Mandy was soft spoken, took her seriously, always believed her and was an adult that Hermione liked even more than professors McGonagall and Flitwick! Of course Hermione knew that it was her therapist’s job to listen to her and believe her. But Hermione had observed Mandy just as much as the reverse had happened. 

That glimmer of humor in Mandy’s eyes when she joked, that smile when Mandy greeted her and invited her in the cabinet, that slightly sad and serious expression of Mandy’s when Hermione told her of her nightmares, all of those were true and not faked in the least. Quite frankly, Hermione was ecstatic to find an adult which she could trust  _ fully _ and with everything.

And so, when Hermione stepped out of the apartment building where Mandy’s practice was, she was smiling and bounced twice on her toes before waving at her father’s car. She felt  _ ready _ for her vacation in France to begin! She felt a bit silly being so happy but at the same time she was happy to be a bit silly since there was nothing wrong with silliness.  _ Isn’t it glorious to feel so good _ , she thought to herself. 


	2. Hermione and the Concept of Femininity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That Hermione was tan was immediately noticeable. Unfortunately for me, Hermione thought, it can also be seen that my thoughts have been on boys.

The day before her trip to France began Hermione sat at her vanity and examined her nails. On the one hand, she snickered at her own pun, long nails were not practical. On the other hand, the nail polish she had begged off her mom looked better on impractically long nails. Tilting her hand to and fro made it sparkle and the light blue color suited her tanned skin. Her therapist had suggested she examine what femininity meant to her. Nail polish wasn’t quite the answer, Hermione thought, but it certainly seemed closer to femininity than reading books about Goblin Rebellion leaders. 

And with that she promptly forgot about her nails and with unfocused eyes tried to remember if she had included  _ all _ of the key locations in her analysis of the 1612 rebellion. It wasn’t as hard as usual since this year she had decided to try out being succinct in her essays and make them masterful while fitting in the prescribed length. In all honesty, it was harder to make them good yet short (by Hermione’s standards), but she did relish in a good academic challenge so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. 

This decision to experiment with femininity and a more relaxed attitude towards studying followed Hermione in her trip to France. While she read each plaque in the museums her family visited, Hermione examined everything connected to famous female figures with twice as much attention. Her studies were inconclusive but her discoveries were nothing to scoff at. 

Looking good was  _ important _ , but it turned out that femininity also encompassed conviction in your choices even when faced with death (Olympe de Gouges), devotion to those you had chosen to protect (Joana d’Arc), and the absolute wreck a man could make a woman’s life if she let him (this was obvious from the museums but also evidenced by their next door neighbours). 

At the end of her trip Hermione had thought many things and decided on two. First, she had to stock up on nail polish because she enjoyed having sparkly nails and there was nothing else to it. If all worked out, Lavender and Parvati would even be intrigued in her new decisions and then she could ask Lavender about how on earth she kept her curls so tame. While it made Hermione feel vaguely Slytherin to plot such things, it was also fun to think that it actually could work. 

Second, while romance books made her stomach swoon, and that nice French guy who had recommended her a book and  _ winked _ at her most certainly also made her stomach swoon, there was a difference between enjoying such things and allowing them to control her. This wasn’t a new idea to her, but she felt more certain of it than ever. New friendships with her roommates, or any other girls would only help with that. 

When Hermione outlined her plans to her mom, Mrs Jane Granger’s lips twitched a bit upwards, but, knowing that Hermione wanted to be taken seriously, Jane limited herself to a somber nod and offered some more advice. Unless Hermione married while in school, or found herself accidentally pregnant there was little reason to not enjoy some attention. And by the by, Hermione, is Hogwarts on top of their sex education? Come, sit closer, I think I will explain it all again, just in case. 

Hermione was happy that she was being taken seriously. But as much as she loved her mom, and as much as she loved lectures and knowledge, this was not quite what she had in mind. 

In short, it was a changed Hermione who met up with Ron and most of the other Weasleys in Diagon Alley. She was tan, she was happy, she had sparkly nails. And also she had recently been thinking quite a bit more about boys than usual. 

That she was tan was immediately noticeable. Unfortunately for me, Hermione thought, it can also be seen that my thoughts have been on  _ boys. _

Hermione blushed when Percy congratulated her on her marks. Hermione blushed even more when George (or was it Fred?)  _ winked _ at her after he made fun of Percy’s Prefect badge for the upteenth time. Hermione felt fed up with her blushing when she did it once again after Mrs Weasley thanked her for pointing out that Ron’s shirt had come untucked. 

Her only saving grace was Harry, once he appeared. In Hermione’s mind Harry had a special place. Ron was a boy who was her friend and occasionally an antagonist to her studies (and in first year to her self confidence). Harry was a boy only in theory. In practice people, animals, house elves, trolls, Quidditch, most things tried to kill him. This “possible victim of murder” label had pushed the “boy” label to the side. 

Not that Hermione noticed any of that. She just knew she was happy to see him, regardless of him blowing up his aunt and running away from home while a mass murderer was on the loose. (There was a  _ reason _ why Harry had a subconscious “possible victim of murder” label.) 

Unbeknownst to her, and most definitely against her best wishes, Hermione’s blushing was noticed by several parties. Percy, seeing that he had the power to make someone _ blush _ with an innocent comment, suddenly felt less anxious about seeing Penelope Clearwater again. Fred and George, being the kind of boys who considered flirting mischief, promptly made several plans to use this knowledge. 

However, after hearing Hermione lecture Harry on the statistical probability of him surviving a meeting with a mass murderer  _ and _ seeing her cuddle a cat which Ron had already likened to Sirius Black they discarded those plans. This didn’t remain so, but any mischief they would make would take place in Hogwarts.


	3. How to Win Friends and Influence People.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are those ink bottles?”
> 
> Hermione smiled brightly, as this was precisely the opening she had imagined.

The day before her birthday Hermione finally decided to put in motion her semi-Slytherin plan of making friends with her roommates. It was scary to put herself out there for ridicule, especially since Hermione still felt defensive about her new found femininity. But, if the worst comes to pass, Hermione thought, I can always pretend I didn’t plan anything at all. No one really  _ had _ to know that she was trying but might not succeed. 

Given that it was a Saturday evening Hermione felt sure that Lavender and Parvati would be in their dorm, giggling over something or other. With a small frown Hermione corrected that,  _ chatting _ about something or other. Saying it was only giggling was a bit derisive, wasn’t it? 

Having climbed up the girls dorms stairs she nervously opened the door to her room. Lavender and Parvati were both inside, sitting in front of the small enclosed fireplace that warmed their joined bedroom. 

Having retrieved her nail polish and other small bits and bobs necessary for her plans she approached the two girls and nervously cleared her throat. 

Since they had gone silent the moment Hermione had entered the room her small cough seemed too loud and embarrassed Hermione. 

I’m a Gryffindor! she encouraged herself and said, “Can I join you for a bit? It’s just that the light is better in front of the heater.”

Parvati elbowed Lavender, who hesitated for a moment but scooted over to let Hermione sit down. 

“Are those ink bottles?”

Hermione smiled brightly, as this was precisely the opening she had imagined.

“What would I do with ink bottles, no, look, it’s nail polish!” she said and deposited her little armful of goods directly in front of her roommates and laid down on her stomach to better show Lavender, who she was sitting next to, what nail polish was.

And with that a new friendship, acquaintanceship at the very least, was born. After some quarter of an hour the three girls' heads were close together, giggling whenever one of them smeared nail polish on their arms or accidentally stuck their wet nails in the carpet. 

Hermione tried her best to still her tongue whenever she wanted to correct the other girls and was on her very best, nicest, calmest behavior. Lavender, seeing that Hermione was truly trying, changed the topic if she thought an argument was looming. It wasn’t very subtle, but both Hermione and Parvati appreciated the effort. As for Parvati, she was feeling nice and toasty in front of the jumping flames and enjoyed chatting with someone she hadn’t talked to as often. 

Regarding why she even had nail polish Hermione fibbed a bit and told them about her mom giving her the nail polish and the twice dreaded  _ talk _ she had gotten with it.

“Oh no!”, gasped Lavender. “Why didn’t you tell her you already knew everything about boys?!”

“Well”, said Hermione in a reasonable tone of voice, “I did think about protesting you know, but what if mom had told me something I didn’t already know?”

This made both Lavender and Parvati giggle. Satisfied that her joke had landed Hermione joined them in giggling.

Even Divination didn’t break the pleasant atmosphere that evening.

“It’s not that I want to be mean about trying to read tea leaves and crystal balls, I just don’t quite believe it all”, explained Hermione, “and! It’s horrid for Harry to keep hearing that he’ll die.”

“Oh  _ no _ , I hadn’t quite thought about it like that”, mumbled Lavender, a bit ashamed she had been so enthusiastic about agreeing with professor Trelawney that her classmate will die.  _ He probably will die, _ she thought _ , but that doesn’t mean he needs to hear it repeated _ .

“I remember now!”, Parvati suddenly sat up straight, “my sister said the same about not believing.  _ But _ , she also said that she enjoyed Divination if she only ‘treated it as symbolism not prophecy’ or something like that anyways.”

“...maybe you could try that too Hermione?”

In short, the evening was a definite success and all attendees went to sleep satisfied. They all had nicely painted nails. Lavender had a new found conviction that she could stand to be less gleeful about Harry (and others) dying. Parvati was generally quite down to earth and so was simply happy. And Hermione had both a hair charm to try out and a promise that she could borrow a bit of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion in the morning. 

“It all worked out”, Hermione gleefully whispered in her pillow, “ _ precisely _ as I had planned!”


	4. A Birthday with Roommates, Friends, et al.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione put away her gifts and had just taken out her morning Arithmancy reading when Fred and George joined the group. They sat down on each side of Ron and Hermione, boxing them in.

Crookshanks woke up at the respectable hour of six in the morning, twitched his left ear and started stretching. After flexing his claws in and out of the bed mattress, as cats are wont to do, he jumped off Hermione’s bed and scampered up on the windowsill next to her bed. 

Everything was as it should be. The day was dawning and it looked to be a nice one. Mist covered Hogwarts grounds and Crookshanks put one of his front paws against the cold window glass. After a moment's thought he judged the temperature to be somewhere around “perfect for taking a nap in front of the fireplace” or perhaps “time to nest in Hermione’s hair”. 

Crookshanks chose the second option and, having finished his morning routine, took a well deserved nap. 

As a small birthday gift to herself Hermione had decided to sleep in. She was having a horrible dream of being strangled when the sounds of Lavender clanking around in the bathroom woke her up. Lavender was shifting around several glass bottles and seemed to be on the verge of making a decision. 

Seeing that Hermione had dislodged Crookshanks from her head and had risen from bed Lavender immediately called out to her, “Happy birthday Hermione! Come, I think I know what to do with your hair.”

Hermione considered mornings to be a necessary evil. She didn’t like being sleepy, but there was no avoiding it so she dealt with it. One of Hermione’s ways of dealing with mornings was a strong preference for muteness. Other people could chat at her, but Hermione didn’t enjoy talking while her brain was groggy.

And so, in response Hermione only hummed and trudged over to eye Lavender’s bottles. One of them was identifiable as the Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion which Lavender had lauded last night. The others, Hermione couldn’t recognise, as Hogwarts Potions classes didn’t cover hair treatments of any kind. 

Lavender examined Hermione’s bleary eyes and slightly vacant expression with an, “Oh you’re just as bad as Parvati.” and pushed on Hermione’s shoulders until she had been steered to and sat down on one of the bedroom chairs. 

“Your hair is horribly similar to mine, so just sit tight for a second and I’ll see what I can do.”

Hair care can be terribly complicated in the Muggle world and wizards are just as bad as their counterparts. Luckily for Hermione’s hair, Lavender was an expert. Armed with a wand, a comb and a potion bottle, Lavender did her best to calm down Hermione’s frizzy bedhead. 

This was one of Hermione’s best birthday mornings. Her strange dreams had been forgotten and she felt pleasantly rested. The feeling of someone playing with her hair was surprisingly nice and since Lavender didn’t expect Hermione to do anything other than hum and exclaim now and then, even Lavender’s gossiping wasn’t bringing Hermione’s mood down. 

Neither sleeping in nor such involved haircare could be afforded each day, but once in a while it turned out that Hermione greatly enjoyed it. Examining Lavender’s work in the bathroom mirror made Hermione even happier.

Her hair didn’t lie in perfect and tame curls like Lavender’s did, but it was noticeably less frizzy and together with her recently painted nails Hermione thought that she looked quite charming for her birthday. 

After thanking Lavender, who generously waved away any thanks with an, “It’s your birthday, I can spare a little Sleekeazy’s.” Hermione left Lavender to wake up Parvati and went off to find Harry and Ron. 

She found them in the Great Hall sitting across from each other and eating breakfast. The boys waited for her to sit down next to Ron and wished Hermione a happy birthday. Then came the time for gifts, Ron had gotten her red ink, “For when you revise your essays!” and Harry had ingeniously thought to get her fancy quill nibs so that she didn't have to scramble for a pen knife in the middle of classes. 

Hermione put away her gifts and had just taken out her morning Arithmancy reading when Fred and George joined the group. They sat down on each side of Ron and Hermione, boxing them in. 

Hermione was quite sure that both Fred and George didn’t know it was her birthday and didn’t want to bring it up since she thought it would look conceited. This left Hermione scrambling for a conversation starter and she had to fall back on time-tested values.

“How are your O.W.L studies going?” she asked brightly. 

It was immediately clear that this was not the right question. Both Fred and George let out exaggerated sighs and Harry snickered. 

“We are going to decline to answer, Hermione, given that it’s September. O.W.L.s,” George said laughingly, “not likely!”

Ron, possibly taking pity on Hermione, brought up the recent Quidditch tryouts and a lively discussion on player changes started. Hermione, never having been interested in Quidditch, turned to her book and started her own breakfast. 

Just when she was thinking about leaving Fred addressed her directly. 

“Actually, Hermione, now that I think about it,” he thoughtfully started, “could you help me and George with a small Charms question we have?”

“It would really help us with our studies on spell interactions,” continued George.

Hermione, as everyone in Gryffindor tower, usually avoided any and all Weasley twin requests, but they seemed sincere and she was still in a very good mood so she acquiesced.

“I’ve only read Goshawk’s Grade Three once but I can try.”

“Cheers,” said Fred and George in unison. Fred continued, “Much appreciated, really!” and stood up. 

George clapped Ron’s shoulder, Fred Hermione’s and they quickly moved over to where Lee was sitting, coincidentally quite a ways deeper in the hall and on the other side of the table.

Harry, who had turned to see them leave, frowned and said, “That was a bit weird wasn’t it?”

But when he turned his gaze back to the confused Ron and Hermione he understood and gasped, “Your hair!”

Hermione turned to Ron in horror. His hair was standing on end, reminding Hermione of the way cartoons showed electrified people. Feeling like her day was already ruined, she reached up to pat her own hair. 

In the morning it had felt smooth and she could pick out separate curls when she looked in the mirror. Now it felt frizzy again and bushed out like a halo around her head.

“Oh, those absolute gits,” she said sharply, feeling frustrated, “this is  _ juvenile _ .”

“It doesn’t look that different on you and anyways, you asked for it” said Ron, trying to pat down his hair with both hands and looking at his reflection in a metal goblet. He didn’t notice Hermione turning to stare at him. 

“But why’d they have to do it to me? I didn’t agree to help them with Charms or whatever it is they said!” continued Ron. 

“Push off!” hissed Hermione to Ron and angrily stood up. Confused, Ron looked up just to see her storm off. He turned to Harry with a question on his lips, but Harry just held up his hands. 

Harry had seen Hermione staring daggers at Ron and hadn’t wanted to get involved in the inevitable spat then and didn’t want to get involved now. 

Hermione marched to the Gryffindor tower, into the common room and up the dorm stairs. She wrenched open her door and marched to Lavender, who had stopped chatting with Parvati to stare at Hermione’s hair with horror. 

“The Weasley twins are berks,” explained Hermione to Parvati before turning to Lavender and clasping her hands in her own. 

“Could you please show me how to do my hair again?”

There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other. One of them is knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll. Another is scorning insensitive teenager boys. Their friendship wasn’t such that Hermione would die for Lavender, but for now the two girls were in perfect harmony.


	5. Hermione’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good Star Chart.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione sneezed on her star chart and promptly burst into tears.

Hermione didn’t swear vengeance on Fred and George because she wasn’t the type of person to believe in enacting revenge. On some level she even understood that they hadn’t meant any harm nor had they targeted her specifically. She had just been in the right place and at the right time to be pranked. So when the first rush of anger had passed, and when she finished her agreeable discussion on the ways boys were annoying with Lavender, Hermione put the prank from her mind. 

She didn’t forget it, they  _ had  _ almost ruined one of her best birthdays ever, but honestly, she had much too much studying to do this year to allow anything to upset her equilibrium. That’s what Hermione thought in September.

Despite Hermione’s best efforts, by the time Christmas break was close to ending, her equilibrium was shattered. 

Harry was obsessed with the Grim, being stalked by Sirius Black, owner of a cursed broom, in no particular order. 

Ron was obsessed with Crookshanks wanting to eat Ron’s rat, angry at Hermione for not somehow impressing upon Crookshanks that he couldn’t eat Ron’s rat, obsessed with Harry’s cursed broom, in that particular order. 

Hermione was apparently Buckbeak’s defense attorney, sleeping for six hours a night, studying for twenty hours a day. She wasn’t sure what else she was doing, or how many hours it took. Sometimes, she wasn’t sure what day it was. 

On the bright side, Hermione was less worried about shattering her mind due to time travel mistakes and more worried about her mind shattering due to more mundane outside forces.

Hermione’s DADA teacher was a werewolf and Hermione had no idea if he was taking the proper safety precautions to not maim anyone too terribly. Honestly, this was her smallest problem. On full moon nights she studied in the common room and put all her trust in adults. 

They can manage this one thing, Hermione spitefully thought, while  _ I _ manage literally everything else. 

Somewhere in the castle Lupin sneezed. It was the day after the full moon. He sneezed five more times and sniffled. Being a werewolf was as scary as it was wretched. I am incredibly lucky, Remus Lupin thought, that no students have figured out I’m a werewolf yet. 

Hermione sneezed on her star chart and promptly burst into tears. It was midnight, time inevitably marched on and she had no more of it. She couldn’t turn it back because she couldn’t wander the castle after curfew and there most definitely couldn’t be two Hermiones studying in the common room. 

Hermione tried to see the damage her sneeze had done on the star chart, but she couldn’t see through her tears. It was the most miserable she had ever felt and Hermione thought she was unraveling at her seams. It was all too much and she wasn’t enough nor did she have enough in her to do anything about it. 

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Ginny was sneaking out of her dorm room. Ginny’s last year had arguably been even worse than Harry’s and in comparison to Hermione she hadn’t had the privilege of a therapist. Unsurprisingly, Ginny had frequent nightmares and liked burning little notes in the common room fireplace to remind herself that she could. 

Hermione heard the creaking stairs, understood that someone was inevitably going to see her crying and let out a loud sob. She was overcome, overwrought,  _ done _ , she couldn’t stifle a thing. 

Ginny recognized the crying person immediately. The table was covered with too many books, pieces of parchment, quills and ink bottles for it to be anyone but Hermione. 

Being a very good example of what a Gryffindor should be Ginny didn’t even entertain the thought of sneaking back upstairs but simply dragged a plush armchair over to Hermione’s table and sat down. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked sympathetically. 

Hermione, seeing that Ginny wasn’t going anywhere, tried to smile and said, “Everything? Everything’s gone wrong.”

“Is it the star chart?” Ginny asked and reached over to drag it closer to her, “I’m pants at Astronomy, but I can try to help you.”

“The star chart isn’t helping,” Hermione confessed, “but I have a hundred other things to do as well.”

Ginny gave an encouraging hum, drew up her legs to settle in more comfortably and tried to make sense of Hermione’s Astronomy homework. 

“I still need to read some three hundred pages for Ancient Runes and go over my Arithmancy equations,” Hermione explained, wiping her eyes, “but there’s also the research I need to do for Buckbeak’s trial- court cases and magical creature legislation at the very least.”

It didn’t seem like Ginny was going to interrupt Hermione. 

“Then there’s Harry and Ron. Everyone knows they’re ignoring me.” Hermione added in a small voice. 

“They’re being gits and they know it,” Ginny replied matter-of-factly, “Merlin knows I’d love to have a Firebolt myself, but cursed items are never worth it.”

“Bill’s told me about some of the curses he’s broken, you know? Some make you think that the item’s  _ got  _ to be safe, so you don’t check it for anything and then get caught on the next curse. It’s pretty complicated.”

“By the way,” Ginny put the start chart back in front of Hermione and pointed at one of the labeled planets, “you’ve got a spelling mistake there.”

They didn’t speak about anything more serious than weather or homework that evening, but Hermione went to sleep feeling a little bit less anxious than the previous night. Ginny had successfully forgotten what drove her downstairs and didn’t have any nightmares. 

Next morning Hermione made sure to sit down next to Ginny at breakfast. She felt less lonely, sitting there and reading while Ginny chatted with her friends, than she had felt for the whole last week with Harry and Ron ignoring her. 


	6. Time Passes, Illustrated by Friendships.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the while, Hermione still missed Harry and Ron. They had been her first, her best friends and now they were pieces of her Hogwarts routine and life missing.

Hermione differentiated the next few months by her ever changing friendships, both new and old. 

Harry and Ron are mercurial, Hermione idly thought while writing her Potions essay. After the Firebolt debacle had ended she had thought that she was in the clear. They would go back on track as if nothing had happened. She didn’t have long to think that, as immediately after that Scabbers disappeared and Ron  _ assumed _ that Crookshanks had eaten him. 

Same as last time, Hermione wasn’t going to apologize or admit guilt. The reason why their friendship, so recently resumed, had ended was different, but the overall situation was the same. 

Hermione didn’t see, didn’t consider herself guilty of anything and they didn’t agree. That was that. It would take evidence beyond reasonable doubt for Hermione to scamper about, apologizing to the boys. Old cat hair and a vanished rat was  _ not _ it. It wasn’t like she could’ve done a thing to stop her cat, Hermione thought, even if Crookshanks had done it. Which he hadn’t.

It hurt to have Ron angry at her and it hurt that Harry supported Ron not her. And the way Ron looked at Crookshanks! Hermione wasn’t a vengeful sort of person but she suspected Ron was. He certainly bore a grudge well, if not for too long in the end. 

Ginny was a constant, Hermione decided while doing an Arithmancy equation. At first Hermione thought that Ginny would support Ron, but Ginny didn’t follow expectations. She just quietly kept Hermione company, analysing Quidditch stats or reading books and dragged her off to meals when Hermione tried to skip too many of them. 

While Ron was her brother, Ginny explained one late evening, he had taken the Scabbers thing too far. It seemed to Hermione that none of Weasleys had actually liked the rat and Ron liked it only now that it was dead. 

Lavender was a breath of fresh air, Hermione thought while doing her Herbology homework. Hermione might have taken that first step towards becoming friends, but soon after Lavender took over. Seemingly overnight she had decided to forget the past two years and had firmly placed Hermione in the friend category. Hermione, having had so few friends, wasn’t in the habit of doubting new ones and was delighted. 

Friendship with Lavender was quite different to any other friendships Hermione had. Whenever Hermione was too sharp or Lavender was too mean, which was semi-frequent, they argued.

“That’s unsubstantiated, you can’t just say that!” Hermione hissed to Lavender one day. 

“Stop lashing out at me!” Lavender shrilly said to Hermione another day. 

They said this, and other things, and not once did they call each other names or regress to ignoring the other. They bit off their cruelty against each other, more often than not ending their small arguments by agreeing to disagree. And with each spat where their friendship held strong they trusted more that it was there to stay. Not once did they go to sleep with an unfinished argument. 

Parvati mourned her loss of sleep, but she also enjoyed their frequent cozy evenings together. Hermione was stuck with a book in front of her face for all of them, but she was there. They would lie on the ground in front of the heat radiating fireplace and do their respective readings.   


Sometimes it was tea leaf and crystal ball readings for Parvati and Lavender, but with time Hermione learnt to enjoy the bitter tea and the light smell of incense. 

Every now and then Hermione couldn’t help but pipe up with a fascinating fact she had just read. To Hermione’s surprised pleasure her roommates were ready to discuss some of them. 

Lavender turned out to be a burgeoning potioneer, accrediting her skill to her interest in creating her own beauty potions and creams and other nifty things. 

Parvati enjoyed researching politics for History of Magic, the more convoluted the plots were, the better she liked them. 

Hermione desperately wished she had enough time to research some of the ideas Lavender and Parvati had presented as facts, but she would have to let them stand until she found a moment to breathe. Exams came first. 

All the while, Hermione still missed Harry and Ron. They had been her first, her best friends and now they were pieces of her Hogwarts routine and life missing. 

When she found out that Buckbeak had lost his trial she was devastated. When she regained Harry and Ron immediately after, she was ecstatic. In the end Hermione wasn’t even surprised that she ended up crying all over Ron from the sheer confusion of emotions she felt. 

However, the anxiety she lost when Harry and Ron started talking to her again was soon replaced by the increasing stress of her classes, each professor being certain that their subject was  _ the _ most important one and demanding the same attitude from their students. 

By the time the first of April had come she was more frazzled than she had ever been. 

She slapped Malfoy while thinking about Buckbeak’s probable execution, she quit Divination while thinking about her Arithmancy homework and she missed Charms class without thinking at all. 

When Fred and George hugged her and proclaimed that slapping Malfoy was their best birthday present to date, she only patted the nearest hand, wished them a happy birthday and wandered off to work on her Elder Futhark translations some more. 

It was only once the exams ended that she truly came out of her daze. 


	7. An Exhausted Ride Home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the longest day Hermione had ever had, both in the amount of incredible events that had taken place and in the literal sense of overusing her Time-Turner.

No matter how unlikely it was, no matter how much classmates scoffed at her, Hermione worried about failing her exams. This worry started in primary school where she had to either embrace the pressure of bringing back perfect grades or fold. 

Hermione’s parents told her that there was a third option, that she could have imperfect grades and live just as happily and be loved just as much. Hermione knew her parents meant well, but they were lying. She would  _ not _ live just as happily with imperfect grades. She was Hermione and to be Hermione was to be prodigious, smart and determined. 

In theory there were other qualities in her, Hermione knew that, but during exams those other qualities took a back seat. 

For now prodigious, smart and determined was who she was and so she worried about her exams. To deal with this horrible feeling Hermione tried to discuss all her answers with whoever was nearest. Her classmates never wanted to discuss their just finished exams, but they just didn’t understand what she was trying to do. If she knew the right answers, if she checked whether she had answered correctly, she could ascertain whether she had received the grades she needed. And once Hermione knew her grades she could finally relax. 

Don’t you see, she wanted to whine, this  _ is _ relaxing for me! Whining didn’t get you answers however, so she memorized exam questions and checked them when she had the time to break free from her celebrating classmates. 

This year, Hermione didn’t even have the time to check that pesky Arithmancy formula that had so troubled her before she and Ron received Hagrid’s message that Buckbeak had lost his appeal. Then Ron found Scabbers, Sirius Black found Ron, Lupin found Sirius Black, Snape found them all, Dementors found Harry and so on. 

It was the longest day Hermione had ever had, both in the amount of incredible events that had taken place and in the literal sense of overusing her Time-Turner. Unsurprisingly, when Hermione lied down on the Hospital Wing bed for the last time that evening she passed out immediately. 

By next morning her mind had finished absorbing all the newfound facts yesterday had revealed. There were so many implications she had to think through! 

Percy was right that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was in dire need of a helping hand. The most notorious criminal of Wizarding Britain was innocent. The breakdown in the Wizarding judicial system was evidently even more serious than Hermione had thought. And after Buckbeak’s sham of a trial she already didn’t think much of their antiquated laws and regulations. 

Then there was the additional proof that adults were not to be trusted with Serious Issues. They could take care of mundane things, such as homework and general rules. But give them one werewolf to deal with and suddenly they became stunningly incompetent. Professor Lupin had confessed that he’d regularly, for  _ years,  _ had broken out of his Hogwarts mandated confinement to frolic around with his friends. The irresponsibility! The rule breaking! The fact that no teacher had noticed! It was mind boggling. And very worrying. 

There was also the suspicious progression of their school year. Hermione’s father liked to say that once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, third time’s the proof. And this was the third end of a year in a row where Harry had gone off adventuring, this time quite unwillingly, but still. Hermione was horrified to think that if she was right, if it was truly a sign of the years to come, then Harry would keep being plagued by misfortune. 

Her only option was to intensify her summer studies. Firstly, Harry’s adventures were time consuming and that left Hermione struggling to stay on top. Secondly, Hermione’s studies were also time consuming and that left Hermione struggling to keep an eye on Harry. If she devoted more of her summer to school work she could have both Harry and an education. It was an easy decision to make. 

Overall, it was an exhausted Hermione that sat in the Hogwarts Express bound for London. Studies notwithstanding, home was where she could finally rest and put aside the more unpleasant parts of Hogwarts. Hermione couldn’t wait to see her parents, couldn’t wait to sit in the sunshine with an extracurricular book. 

Quite frankly she also couldn’t wait for therapy to restart. She’d have to figure out what to tell both her parents and her therapist but she didn’t expect it would provide her much difficulty. Pettigrew had changed his name and not turned into a rat, professor Lupin had kept his friendship with Black a secret not the fact that he was a werewolf. A tiny bit of fibbing and glossing over and everything would be Muggle safe. 

What Hermione actually couldn’t wait to talk about were her successes. She had made  _ two _ new friends when she had originally only planned for one! They talked about homework of course, but they also talked about what interested them, their future dreams and plans and other things that were very important and signified a close relationship. 

_ And _ Hermione had become quite grounded in her own concept of femininity. At the very least she had determinedly stood by her convictions and guarded her friends, despite what they might think of it. She did feel a bit silly that she’d been so worried about boys last summer since she hadn’t experienced anything even related to the concept of “boys” for the whole year. But, Hermione reasoned, they weren’t going anywhere, so hurrying didn’t make a lick of sense. Even if she did secretly think that it would be quite fun to trade stories and giggle over them with Lavender and Ginny. 


	8. Dear Hermione.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Ginny,
> 
> What did Fred and George do to get nagged by your mum? I doubt they’re completely innocent in this war you have going on. Is it their inventions? Also, how are they inventing something if they’re still underage? I know they use Charms for some of their pranks, so I doubt it’s just legal potion making.
> 
> Love,  
> Hermione.

June 28th, 1994. 

_Dear Hermione,_

_I miss Hogwarts, it’s a madhouse over here. Even if I have my bedroom all to myself, it somehow is still louder than the dorm rooms and that should tell you something!_

_Mum is terrorizing Fred and George or maybe it’s the other way around. Percy is obsessed with his job (he got in the Ministry). Dad’s basically moved in his Muggle shack and doesn’t want “the kids” (!) to touch something dangerous so I can’t see what he's doing there. Probably hiding._

_Mum’s so focused on the others that yesterday for the first three times I asked her a question she didn’t hear me and the fourth time she just sent me off to feed the chickens. Fun! And we’re still out of owl treats._

_At least I’ve gotten Fred & George to show me what they’re working on and some of their inventions are absolutely brilliant. I bet even you would think they’re impressive, even if you wouldn’t approve. One sickle says so? _

_Oh, but I do have one way I can get some peace. Just don’t tell anyone! If I wake up early enough I like to sneak outside to fly. And don’t start in on safety! I’ve been doing it for years and a first year with shaking hands couldn’t crash the brooms, they’re that slow. If you get to visit us I’ll show you, it’ll be fun._

_How are you doing? How’s it feel to be back on the Muggle side of things? Have you received the supply list yet? Maybe we can meet up to get the new things together?_

_Love,  
_ _Ginny_

_P.S. This is Ron’s owl, I named him Pigwidgeon. He acts a bit like a fairy doesn’t he? Fluttering around and chirping. Cute! I copied the poem on another page, in case you haven’t read it._   
  


June 30th, 1994. 

_Dear Ginny,_

_First and foremost. That’s still dangerous! At the very least you should leave a note where your parents can find it, in case they go looking for you. Frankly, you should also wear a helmet. I know that if you’ve been flying for years you must be very good, but I still worry, so please be safe!_

_Now that that’s out of the way. I agree, it does sound like it’s horribly loud for you and I’m not surprised you like escaping it all for a while. It sounds like your dad has the same idea! Maybe you can beg off and spend some time in your garden? If you have chickens I assume you also have a garden._

_Don’t let Ron know I said this, but if you hint to your mum that Ron has a lot of summer homework (we really do have lots) maybe she’ll keep an eye over him and that’ll keep him out of your way? In all honesty, you would be doing Ron a favor too._

_What did Fred and George do to get nagged by your mum? I doubt they’re completely innocent in this war you have going on. Is it their inventions? Also, how are they inventing something if they’re still underage? I know they use Charms for some of their pranks, so I doubt it’s just legal potion making. And regarding the bet, I’m not taking it! If you are so sure that I’d like their inventions then they truly must be impressive._

_You will have to show me_ _everything_ _if (when?) I visit. I’ve never been in a true wizarding house, it must be fascinating. If someone is nearby with healing spells I’d even like to try flying with you. And I definitely want to see Fred and George’s inventions. Maybe you can ask your mum if I can visit? My parents would definitely let me. And when we get our supply lists we can go shopping, yes!_

_My summer’s been strange so far. I’ve been busy with homework, but I keep catching myself thinking that everything is too calm. I was chasing deadlines for the whole past year, but now that I don’t have any deadlines I almost miss them. What am I supposed to do? I bet you would enjoy the quiet more than I do. Do you have any suggestions?_

_Love,  
_ _Hermione._

_P.S. Pigwidgeon is a lovely name and it fits him very well! I gave him some treats and he was very happy. Thank you for the poem. I wonder if it’s possible to recreate Nimphidia’s potion?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem Ginny sends Hermione is Michael Drayton’s “Nimphidia”. It’s pretty neat, but it’s also 4.3k words long so I wasn’t going to copy it. Here are the relevant facts: Pigwidgeon is fairy Queen Mab’s lover. King Oberon finds out, sends Puck to find her. Queen Mab’s maid Nimphidia makes a potion/casts a spell to hide Queen Mab. The plot goes on, but this is what’s relevant.


	9. Dear Lavender.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> P.P.S. I just got the supply list. We need dress robes. This is very important. You absolutely must stay away from green or pink.

June 30th, 1994. 

_ Dear Lavender, _

_ How has your summer been so far? What have you been up to? I finally started reading “Heat & Pressure and Other Common Problems in Beauty Potions” you gave me and it’s incredible.  _

_ We’ve always created mediums that are directly applied to the body or ingested. I never even thought about how hair potions are used before styling it! And then there’s potions that need secondary preparation by infusing and so added to baths, etc. You’ve read it all so I don’t need to repeat it to you, I know, but it’s just incredible how much has been left out in our education!  _

_ If I hadn’t asked you about my hair, if we hadn’t started talking about how you make your own potions, I don’t think I would’ve given the book a second glance! Shame on me for judging a potion for its name. But honestly, I do think they could’ve just named it “Heat & Pressure and Other Common Problems in Potions”.  _

_ I’ve already finished my outlines for summer homework so now I need to wait for the supply lists to find out what other books the professors want us to include. Have you started? How do you spend your days? We’ve talked quite a bit this year, but now that I think about it, we hardly ever mentioned summer plans!  _

_ Oh, and do you have any suggestions for what wizarding attractions I could show my parents? They’re still spooked about the petrifications and I didn’t even tell them about Sirius Black trying to break in. I don’t want to imagine their reactions if they knew! We went to France last summer, but I want to show them something nice that’s closer to home. They quite liked the old cobblestone shopping streets, if that helps. _

_ I added to this letter an excerpt from a (probably?) Muggle poem. Do you think this potion recipe would work? There’s a lot of leaping about and chanting there, which seems superfluous, but the ingredients could work I think. I miss having a proper library near me. _

_ Love,   
_ _ Hermione.  _

_ P.S. This is Ron’s owl, it insisted on delivering this letter when it saw me writing it, I swear. Please send it on its way as soon as it’s finished delivering or Ron will think I stole his owl. _

July 5th, 1994. 

_ Dear Hermione, _

_ That owl was so cute! You better be happy I didn’t keep him, because I wanted to! He would probably be happier with me, you know? I’m now determined to get a pet I can bring to Hogwarts and I blame you. Also, the owl is a he, not an it. You wouldn’t call Crookshanks an it, don’t be mean.  _

_ The book really is very good, I agree. I’ve been using it ever since I first started making potions. And don’t pretend Hermione, we all know why (“Professor”, I can hear you saying) Snape doesn’t teach us about beauty potions. I know you like to say that we should respect all professors everywhere and always, but really, everybody knows that if someone pranked him with a hair potion he would never live it down. I personally think it would be a very good experience for him, he can’t be happy living like he does now.  _

_ Burn this letter after receiving it, please. If there’s anyone who could loom over my shoulder while I write about them, it’d be Snape. Hanging like a bat in a corner of my room. Brrr! _

_ Also, they are called beauty potions for a reason. They enhance your already existing beauty, or in very sad cases, they create beauty where there was none before. There’s nothing wrong with the name, and I don’t like to hear you saying so!  _

_ Are you quite alright, by the way? If you’ve already finished your outlines in the first two weeks of summer, I shudder to think how much time you’ve spent studying. You absolutely should show your parents around, but that’s because you need to relax. It’s very unhealthy to study in the first month of summer, don’t you know anything? No more! _

_ I suggest you first visit the Diagon Alley, which is not very exciting, I know, but if you don’t receive the Prophet or Witch Weekly then you need to get both. The Prophet has an advertisement page for all kinds of events, you just have to keep an eye out on whether they allow Muggles in. And Witch Weekly always has small articles on interesting new shops and places and “date ideas” and more. That’s your best bet!  _

_ Oh, by the way, I went with my neighbour (he’s very handsome if not very smart) to Fortescue's ice cream parlor and it has some new varieties! So you can show your parents that too. Oliver thought it would be very impressive if he could eat a whole Blood Ice Cream, but it really wasn’t impressive so don’t try that one out.  _

_ Love,   
_ _ Lavender. _

_ P.S. I’ll try out that recipe once my dad looks it over. Maybe it would make fairies and other magical critters go away? _

_ P.P.S. I just got the supply list. We need dress robes. This is very important. You absolutely must stay away from green or pink. If you go shopping, take your mum or someone else you trust with you. Better yet, write to me so we can go together. Dad can take me on the last week of July, any day. Parvati won’t be able to come, she’s off on a big trip this summer. Answer soon! _


End file.
